


Barely Even Friends (Or: “How Intimidation Led to Something More”)

by blown_transistor



Series: Holiday Parties [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9241520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blown_transistor/pseuds/blown_transistor
Summary: Rafael Barba needed a date for New Year's Eve, and Elizabeth Applegate wanted to know what happened to her piece of shit boss. Favors, drinks, dinner, and designer gowns later...





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "What’s a Holiday Party Without a Little Intimidation? (or “Nothing Suits Rafael Barba Like a Suit”)" The original was written as a gift to chiltonperalta on Tumblr as a gift for the Esparza Exchange. 
> 
> http://www.pophangover.com/35246/national-lampoons-christmas-vacation-the-drinking-game/ (the drinking game I mention)
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLjgjKHy4ofeA-2ve7K1xM6uihF1tK3VeC (Like always, I made a playlist.)
> 
> In the section devoted to Christmas Eve (specifically the parts that involve Lucia Barba), assume the italiacs are Spanish. Google Translate sucks.

_Tale as old as time_

_True as it can be_

_Barely even friends_

_Then somebody bends_

_Unexpectedly..._

_\--_ Beauty and the Beast 

 

**Previously...**

 

“ _What the hell did you do, Rafael Barba? I get to work, and Mark’s office was cleaned out. I told you not to do anything._ ”

“ _I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about._ ”

“ _Bullshit. I know you did something._ ”

“ _My memory could come back if you have dinner with me tonight._ ”

“ _What?_ ”

“ _I’m sure even Yale teaches reading. Have dinner with me tonight._ ”

“ _Are you asking me out on a date?_ ”

“ _Yes._ ”

“ _Why?_ ”

“ _Because I enjoyed your company and want to see you again. And I need a real date for New Year’s._ ”

“ _I’ll see you tonight, then._ ”

 

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

 

Rafael turned at the sound of heels clicking across the wooden floor of the restaurant bar and smiled when he saw it was Liz. He put down his scotch and stood up from his bar stool. “How was your day?”

“Just another day in paradise,” she sassed, leaning in and hugging him before shedding her blue peacoat. She sat down on the bar stool next to his and ordered a vodka martini. “Now, are you going to tell me what in the hell you did to get Mark out of my hair?”

“I made a phone call…”

“What did you say? I need to know exactly.”

“I said that my hopefully-soon-to-be-fiancée finally broke down and told me what’d been going on after the party at the bank. As an Assistant District Attorney and coworker of A.D.A. O’Dwyer, I could very easily drop a bug in his ear about the other women the distraught love of my life mentioned…”

“Soon-to-be fiancée,” she laughed. “An awfully thin limb for you to crawl out on for someone you barely know. What if he’d called your bluff?”

Before her comment, he’d been ready to take another sip of his scotch. After? “Elizabeth,” he began, slowly returning his glass to the napkin and taking her hand in his “one thing my job has taught me is that guys like that rarely do this once. With the rich, entitled ones there’s almost always a money trail.”

“I was about to comment on what a dark world you must live in, until you smirked. Out with it.”

“I have it on the best of authorities that O’Dwyer has gotten subpoenas for Mark Stalling’s finances, as well as those of his father this afternoon.”

Liz almost dropped her martini glass. “Oh my god, please don’t tell me you mentioned my name.”

“Of course not. I approached Lieutenant Benson at SVU as a friend and O’Dwyer as a colleague. Hinted that someone close to me had disclosed something to me personally, but was unwilling to come forward at the time. And acting as _her_ attorney, I couldn’t take any further action on it. I might have mentioned that I might be able to convince you to file a formal claim.”

She recoiled, almost falling off the bar stool. “No. I won’t.”

“It’s amazing what the police can find within hours now,” Rafael gloated, swirling the scotch around in his glass. He produced a pen from his pocket, grabbed a second drink napkin from the stack in front of him, scribbled a few words on it, and handed her the pen.

_Sign this. --RB_

Plucking the pen from his hand, she signed the partially damp napkin -- EMA. “What about your fee?”

“Consider it waived, Elizabeth.”

She scoffed.

“As an attorney communicating to his client, what would you do if I told you I was right?”

“You mean if you told me I wasn’t alone, what would I do?” She wiped first at the inside corners of her eyes then the outsides. Grabbing her martini glass, she drained it.

“So, are you still moving to Queens?”

She shook her head with a grin. “Once they told me he was gone, I told the branch manager I’m staying.”

“Good.” He raised his glass and tapped the rim of it against her martini glass. “I’d hate to lose you to Queens.”

“It’d make it a lot harder for you to wink at me when taking cash out of the bank on your lunch break. You’re not very subtle, Mister Barba.”

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle.” When the hostess came over to show them to their table, he placed a gentle hand on the waist of her black sheath dress. His pinky finger brushed the patent leather of the belt holding the long shawl collar in place.

Her hand curled into the soft silk of the back of his vest as they walked to their table. He slid into the booth next to her and watched out of the corner of his eye as Liz poured over the menu nervously.

Feeling his eyes on her, she looked up at him. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve done this, Rafael.”

“Done what, had dinner with someone?”

“Been on a date,” she corrected. “I spent five years of my life taking on an unholy course load, slinging drinks to buy food, and sleeping four hours a night. Well, six hours a night if it was Christmas or Spring Break. If I wasn’t in class, sleeping, or making cocktails, I was studying. I apologize for the decline in your pharmaceutical investment in 2013 after it’d spent the past five years spiking. I was on a _lot_ of Adderall.” Liz smiled sadly. “My dealer teared up when I told him I wasn’t going to grad school.”

“I’ll pass the sentiment onto my broker,” he deadpanned. “And somehow ignore that last bit.”

“I probably shouldn’t have said that part,” she winced.

“Attorney-client privilege and all.”

She nudged his arm with her elbow. “Not all heroes wear capes.”

“I don’t really know how you even found the time to sleep.” He shook his head with a grin.

“To be honest, I don’t know how I did either.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why put yourself through all that? A lot of people party their way through college.”

“Partying wasn’t a luxury I could afford,” Liz lamented. When the waiter came around to greet them, she ordered a glass of chardonnay. “I’m getting the feeling that you understand that predicament.”

“I went to Harvard on scholarship. Law school there was a combination of more scholarships and loans.”

“And if you do one iota less than perfect, they don’t let you forget it.” She put the menu down and looked at her date. “I was the scholarship kid at Yale.” She started to say something else closer to home, but stopped herself with a simple: “I get it”.

Rafael shook his head with a grin. “You’re quite a woman.”

“So now I have to ask _you_ why.”

“And now I have to ask ‘why what’?”

“Why climb out that far onto a limb for a virtual stranger?” she inquired after her wine arrived. “And don’t say your job. You went above and beyond.”

“I see a lot of me in you, Elizabeth. I do. You’re a self-made, educated woman with so much potential, especially if one believes what your co-workers said when you were in the ladies’ room.” He sighed, took an extra drink from his scotch, and laced his fingers with hers. “So when you told me that you were going to give up your career path to get away from the type of person I spend my days putting in jail? How could I not do something?”

“You are a good man, Rafael Barba. And if I didn’t think you’d turn away, I’d kiss you for it.” Liz shrugged. “I’m really not sure how you can be a complete ass and somehow make it look hot as hell.”

 _I’ll take the compliment._ “What makes you think I’ll turn away?”

“You don’t strike me as the P.D.A. type, Counselor.”

“I have been known to make exceptions from time to time when the occasion calls for it.” He leaned in to make his point, only to be met with her hand on his chest to stop him.

“If we’re breaking the rules in celebration, you should probably know the full story.” Twirling the tip of her long ponytail around her middle finger as she laughed nervously, she looked down at the candle in the middle of the table before catching his eye again. “In a funny twist of fate, our stories are pretty much straight without us ever speaking about it. I did tell the branch manager about what Douchebag Von Fuckface had been doing. Naturally, she pressed for more details. I said the first thing that came to mind. I told her that I finally broke down and told my Assistant District Attorney boyfriend the whole story because he saw me flinch at the party when Mark got close to me.”

“And?”

“And she called me into her office twenty minutes before we closed to tell me that I start head teller training after the first of the year.” Liz bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling from ear to ear. “I won’t be in the branch for you to wink at for a few weeks after that, but I’ll be a few floors up. I don’t know when you take lunch, but mine will be at one.”

“So I get him out of your hair, _and_ you get a promotion?”

She shrugged. “And a raise. I’ll pay for the night out once that raise hits my paycheck.” Taking a sip of her wine, she set it back on the table. “I didn’t ask for any of that.”

“I know.”

“So if you want to rescind that…” She yelped in surprise when Rafael dipped his head and captured her lips with his. Curling the fingers of her right hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, she returned the gesture. His lips were deceptively soft. He tasted of scotch and coffee, a fact she learned when his tongue darted out to touch her upper lip. “So you said you need a date for New Year’s?” she inquired in a low whisper after he’d pulled away.

“There’s an event the New York Public Library. It’s simply politics that I got invited, but I’d be a fool to turn down the Mayor’s invitation.”

Liz coughed to keep the wine from going down her windpipe. “The _Mayor_ . You want to take _me_ to something that...public?”

“I do. And I trust that you and your...thrifty couture self will find something stunning to wear.”

“Black tie?” When he nodded, she hummed her understanding and looked down at her unpolished fingernails. “I’m sure I can come up with something that won’t disappoint.”

 

“We devolved into rivalry jokes the other night after you told me you went to Yale,” Rafael expressed somewhat apologetically after they’d ordered dinner. “You never told me what you actually majored in.”

“You’re right. I didn’t.” Liz scratched the area behind her left ear awkwardly. “I double-majored in Finance and Journalism. And minored in Poli-Sci.”

 _Color me impressed._ “And just what were you planning to do with that?”

“Well, considering I was having to decide what to do with my life at the time banks and the auto industry were being bailed out, my first idea was to be a financial journalist. I wanted to move back to New York after graduation to be close to what little family I have...and Wall Street. But no one wanted… Did you ever watch _How I Met Your Mother_ when it was on?”

“Occasionally.”

“They gave Robin the fluff pieces at the end of the news like the waterskiing squirrel. Well, I didn’t give up my social life and sleep schedule from eighteen to twenty-two for fucking waterskiing squirrels.”

He tried and failed to hide the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “So you went to work for a bank.”

“Well, finance _is_ what I’m good at.” She turned and crossed her arms over her chest. “I still stand by what I said about your suit. Well, now it’s suits plural. You either strip in your off-hours, or…”

“I started off in private practice, yes.”

“Called it. The suit’s definitely worth it, but I prefer you as a savior of the people.”

 

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

 

Another late night with paperwork two days before Christmas Eve. Rafael Barba poured himself a second scotch, loosened his tie, and sat back down on the sofa in his office. Just as he reached to grab the Henderson dismissal motion from the coffee table, his phone buzzed against the same file.

_Please don’t let it be from Liv. I can’t handle that tonight._

He picked up the device and brought up the screen. It was a Facebook notification -- a friend request.

“ _Elizabeth Margaret Applegate has sent you a friend request._ ”

He unlocked the screen, clicked “accept”, and brought up her profile.

_CSR at Manhattan Federal Bank and Bartender at Bar 1701_

_Studied Finance and Journalism at Yale University_

Her cover photo was Robert Downey, Junior in full Iron Man costume sitting on top of a donut shop and pulling his sunglasses down.

The picture featured as her profile photo made him smile. Dressed in a Yale sweatshirt, she held a poster above her head.

_Oh but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears_

_Bury the rag deep in your face_

_For now’s the time for your fears…_

He wouldn’t mention how liberal the CSR at his über conservative bank was in her personal life. This was a decision he came to after finding a follow-up picture of Liz holding up her Dylan-quoting sign with the lights of Trump Tower in the background.

The five “featured photos” below the brief biography made him smile. Pictures with friends, pictures of just her,

“ _I wouldn’t have pegged you as a #NotMyPresident person. Also I just used a hashtag in a text. Oh god._ ”

“ _Oh no. The world’s going to come to an end before inauguration day. Dammit, I was looking forward to my twenty-sixth birthday and the new seasons of ‘Game of Thrones’ and ‘Sherlock’. We’re one step from Danerys and Yara ruling the fucking Seven Kingdoms because ‘bitches get stuff done’. And as far as ‘Sherlock’ goes, they’ve promised to tie up years worth of loose ends. I really wanted to live to see that._ ”

“ _You fail to understand. I know what that was before the hashtag thing._ ”

“ _I’m wounded. You think I don’t? Apart from it being the ‘pound’ sign, it’s called an octothorpe. Now I’m Octothorpe Disappointed._ ”

Rafael sniggered. “ _Octothorpe Ivy League Hashtags_ ,” he texted back after leaning back into the sofa and putting down his notes.

“ _What are your plans for this Christmas weekend? I have absolutely none and have found rules for a ‘National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation’ drinking game._ ”

“ _You’re not seeing your parents? Your brother?_ ”

“ _My brother, his wife, and their children are going to Chicago to spend Christmas with her family. And it’s a long story why, but I won’t be seeing my parents. I’ll probably be THAT PERSON ordering Chinese on Christmas Day, too. My roommate will be in Vermont. If you have plans, feel free to tell me to get lost._ ”

“ _I don’t have any plans on Friday night, no. I am going to see my mom Saturday for Christmas Eve._ ” He paused before sending or continuing the message. His plans for the weekend had included paperwork. He need a break. He deserved one. He knew it, and so did everyone around him. The bold ones (a.k.a. Liv) even told him as much. And it was obvious that she could use the company… “ _When do you want me?_ ”

“ _I’ll probably leave work around 6:15, so don’t show up until at least 8:15. I have to vacuum. The roomie isn’t exactly Miss Clean._ ”

“ _Let’s say nine?_ ”

“ _Perfect._ ”

 

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

 

Friday night of Christmas weekend found Rafael Barba breathing a sigh of relief when he got to Liz’s door. She lived on the seventh floor of a building without an elevator. _That_ little tidbit she’d failed to mention in their text conversation. Tucking the bottle of wine he’d brought under his arm, he knocked on her green front door.

“You made it!” she greeted warmly. She stopped to brush the flour from her hands onto her plaid flannel pajama pants before kissing him on the cheek and ushering him inside the tiny apartment ahead of her. “I’m so used to the stairs that I didn’t think to mention them. I’m sorry.”

He cocked an eyebrow at the combination of the beige walls, generic light carpet… And then his eyes caught sight of the six foot fake Christmas tree in the corner by the window. Just from a cursory glance, he spotted: four Barbie ornaments, a handful of Disney ornaments, two Star Wars ornaments, and a black and white printed photo of David Boreanaz as “Angel” wrapped around the top as a tree topper. And a handful of wrapped gifts perched atop a tropical-themed beach towel as a makeshift tree skirt. “It’s fine, Liz.” He turned toward her once again and handed the wine to her. “My contribution to the drinking game.”

“Pinot Grigio,” she stated after reading the label. “Clearly we have reached a hive-mind situation. I’ve got a box of that same type in the fridge.” When Rafael looked at her horrified, she put a defiant hand on her hip. “I invited you over for a drinking game. If you think I’m going to ‘drink whenever someone mentions Clark’s bonus or the swimming pool’ with good booze, you’re fucking nuts.”

“Fair point.” Rafael shed his overcoat and draped it over the lone chair just inside the door. Looking over at his hostess for the evening, he bit back an eye roll. She sported bright red plaid sleep pants, some sort of blue shirt, and a maroon Abercrombie sweatshirt.

“This is my home. It’s a holiday weekend. My clothes don’t have to match.” Liz sprinted toward the kitchen at the sound of the oven timer going off. She poured two healthy glasses of her already chilled white wine and brought them to the living room. She shook her head when Rafael emerged from the bathroom.

Rafael had entered the apartment wearing jeans and a grey sweater. Upon seeing his hostess’ manner of dress, he darted for the bathroom and pulled the Harvard sweatshirt and pajama pants from his briefcase.

“Until just now, I thought you wore suits to bed,” she sassed when he re-entered the kitchen.

“Hardly.” He paused when he caught a sampled line from Hamilton coming over her speakers.

 _...When the world turned its back on me  
__I was up against the wall  
__I had no foundation  
__No friends and no family to catch my fall_  
_Running on empty, there was nothing left in me but doubt  
__I picked up a pen  
__And I wrote my way out…_

The melody and rhythm was familiar to him. “What is this?”

“This,” Liz began as she pulled cookies out of the oven “is amazing. This the ‘Hamilton Mixtape’. Have you not heard this?”

“This? No. I saw it earlier this year, and just knew this wasn’t in the original.”

 _High speed, dubbin’ these rhymes in my dual cassette deck  
_ _Runnin’ out of time like I’m Jonathan Larson’s rent check…_

“I’ve entered the ticket lottery thirty-eight times. Hell, I even played the Powerball a few times in the hopes of getting enough cash for tickets.”

Rafael bit back a snort and a comment. “I lucked into a pair at the last minute. I took my mom.”

 _My mind is where the wild things are, Maurice Sendak  
_ _In withdrawal, I want it all, please give me that pen back  
_ _Y’all, I caught my first beatin’ from the other kids when I was caught readin’..._

“Son of the decade, you are.” She grabbed a spatula and moved the cookies to a Fourth of July-themed tray after shutting off the stereo. “The cookies are blobs. I apologize.”

“They make these things called cookie cutters?”

“I have exactly one of those, and I’m sure as shit not using it for this occasion.”

“How bad could it be?”

“Pretty bad.” She produced the cookie cutter that was shaped crudely like male genitalia from the drawer and tossed at him. “I was in charge of cookies for a bachelorette party over the summer.”

“That is absolutely terrifying.” He dropped it to the counter like it might give him a disease.

“Hence the reason they’re blobs.” Bringing the cookies to the living room, she pressed play on the DVD remote and started the classic movie. Liz sat down on one end of the sofa, smiling at the animated opening sequence as she handed her company for the evening the printed out rules for the game.

Rafael sat down next to her and took a preemptive sip of the cheap wine in his glass. “Oh my god,” he laughed nervously.

“There’s a reason I went with wine. If I’d used liquor, there’s no way in hell you’d get to your mom’s tomorrow.”

The animation shifted to live action. Chevy Chase and Beverly D’Angelo were singing Christmas carols…

“DRINK!” she yelled when the station wagon merged underneath the tractor trailer. “They referred to Rusty as ‘Rus’.” Loosely holding onto the stem of her glass, she touched the rim to his before taking another drink.

When the log truck came into view, he held his glass in her direction. “Drink again. ‘Clark endangers himself and / or others in the pursuit of the perfect Christmas’!”

 

What followed were drinks in an alarmingly quick succession.

A drink because Clark has a Chicago Bears hat on.

A few more because they called Rusty “Rus” again.

The neighbors got angry.

Ellen called Clark “Sparky”.

Three drinks in a row because someone mentioned Clark’s Christmas bonus and / or the swimming pool.

The pair took an extra drink because the line “Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Kiss my ass. Kiss his ass. Happy Hanukkah” was just that amusing.

 

The game pretty much went out the drafty window when Randy Quaid showed up as Cousin Eddie.

Liz shot wine out of her nose and onto the front of her sweatshirt when Rafael looked her in the eye and spoke along with the movie: “Every time Catherine revved up the microwave, I’d piss my pants and forget who I was for about half an hour or so.”

 

“Hallelujah. Holy shit. Where’s the Tylenol?” she shouted some time later, rubbing her temples. “I’m sure you can relate to the sentiment.”

“Coffee exists for a reason.”

“As does bourbon.”

 

As the movie drew to a close, Chevy Chase gave a heartfelt speech, and the man playing Uncle Lewis lit the sewage on fire. Elizabeth put her glass down on the coffee table and watched the rest of the movie without taking a drink. When the credits began to roll, she stood up. She popped her neck, took note of the time, and offered to take Rafael’s glass. “Refill? I’m having one.”

“Sure.” He was in for the night, so why not? Plus, this was his break (the one he hadn’t intended on taking). A woman he barely knew bribed him with baked goods and booze and got him to take a night off. Olivia hadn’t even been able to convince him to do that.

“As crazy as all of that was,” she began with a slight slur after handing him his glass back and sitting down cross-legged next to him “I’d kill for a single memory of a Christmas like that.”

With the first sip of his refill (he’d lost count of just how many), he began to feel the effects of the wine. “Were all of your Christmases just too perfect?”

She laughed and wiped at the corners of her eyes with the cuff of her sweatshirt sleeve. “I wish.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“How much time do you have?”

“However much longer both of us can stay up.”

“You might live to regret that,” Liz laughed.

“Try me.”

Liz gathered her glass and held it close to her chest. “My mother is the living example of why people should have to get a permit to have kids.” She took another swig from her drink. “God love him, my dad tried.”

“So what happened?” Rafael asked over the sounds of the DVD menu on repeat.

“My earliest Christmas memory involves my parents fighting. They divorced when I was three. My brother was eight. Until the both of us were old enough to tell the court that we wanted to live with Dad, they had joint custody. Nothing my piece-of-shit egg donor did somehow disqualified her from parenting.” She put her glass down on the coffee table.

He opened his mouth to offer condolences until she recovered her breath enough to continue.

“Dad tried his best through sole and joint custody, god love him. My brother and I haven’t spoken with our mother since we each told the court we wanted to stay with Dad.”

“You speak of your dad in the past tense. I’m scared to inquire...”

“He passed away my freshman year at Yale. Cancer.”

When he saw the first hints of tears forming, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side.

“It came back right before my high school graduation. I’d already accepted all the scholarships and got in early decision. I-I wanted to call them and say I couldn’t start in the fall. I wanted to stay here with him, but Dad wouldn’t let me.” Resting her head on his shoulder, she sighed. “I’m just glad I was there with him at the end. He passed a few days before Christmas, so you can imagine how well the rest of my break went.”

“My dad’s been gone for almost eighteen years,” he admitted softly. “Every time I put someone away, I imagine it’s him they’re taking to jail in handcuffs. I just wish my mom could have left.”

Liz wrapped her arms around his middle and let him hold her in silence for a while. “Two kids from fucked up situations, and here we are…” The corner of her mouth twisted up into a smile despite her tears. “‘Look at where you are. Look at where you started.’”

“Easy, Alexander.”

She picked her head up off his shoulder and went to grab a small, festive bag from under the tree. “I got you a little something. I hope that’s okay.”

“You didn’t have to,” Rafael began, fingering the bow holding the bag closed. “I don’t have anything for you, other than that wine I brought.”

“Dude, wine is perfectly acceptable as a Christmas gift. It’s functional _and_ practical.”

 _The tone of this evening is back to light-hearted. That’s good._ “Chocolate-covered espresso beans,” he observed with a smile after opening the gift.

“A snack that keeps you caffeinated. The other bag I bought is in my desk at work.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

 

When she finally opened her eyes the next morning, Liz immediately groaned and pulled the covers over her head to block out the sunlight streaming in through her bedroom window...only to discover Rafael had a similar idea.

“Have you ever considered investing in some curtains? I mean, even blinds would work,” he sassed. “You get me drunk, feed me my body weight in cookies, and try to teach me to swing dance...and don’t warn me that my retinas will be burned when the sun rises. Some hostess you are.”

“You’re so warm,” she muttered, snuggling up next to him. “I wish you could stay here and eat Chinese food with me.”

“You’re not eating Chinese food, Elizabeth.”

“Yes, I am. I told you I was.”

“I talked to my mom ten minutes ago. She insisted I bring you along.”

She sat bolt upright in the bed, knocking the covers off of both their faces. “I… We’ve been out together twice. I’m not going to your mother’s house for Christmas…”

“No one should be alone on Christmas,” he interrupted. “Besides, there are going to be plenty of leftovers.”

 

Hours later, Liz stifled a burp and leaned back into Lucia Barba’s comfortable sofa. Rafael hadn’t been wrong. His mother had cooked up enough for ten people. Between the roasted pork, fried plantains, rice and beans, rice pudding, and rum cake, she was convinced that someone would have to roll her home à la Veruca Salt in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Her wine glass sat on the end table to her right. Looking over at Rafael, she smiled. She wouldn’t have pegged him for a mama’s boy, but he _totally_ was. And she liked him a little more for it. Her new… Was ‘boyfriend’ the right term? Whatever. Whatever he was to her, Rafael Barba about six seconds away from a food coma next to her on the sofa.

She contemplated letting him fall asleep, if for no other reason than she could talk to his mother unimpeded. She’d taken enough Spanish in high school and college that she understood what mother and son were saying about her. Mother thought she was far too young and unsettled for her pride and joy. Son defended her brains, grace, and mentioned that she’d gone to Yale.

While she appreciated the praise, she felt the need to stand up for herself. When Rafael’s eyes finally closed, she re-entered the kitchen. “Let me help with this,” she insisted while gesturing toward the dishes. “I was the unexpected guest after all.”

Lucia started the dishwasher, quickly washed a bowl, and handed it to Liz to dry.

“ _My Spanish isn’t perfect,_ ” she began in heavily accented Spanish after putting the dish away. “ _But I know enough to pick up on the fact that you don’t think I’m the best idea your son’s ever had._ ” At the older woman’s shock, she took the next dish to dry. “ _But here we are._ ” God, why hadn’t there been a chapter in a textbook called “talking to the mother of the guy you want to bang”. “ _We’ve been on exactly one date. We…_ ” She trailed off, clearly searching for the right word in her second language.

“I do speak English, you know.” The older woman cocked an eyebrow and handed Liz a third dish. “And point taken.”

 _Well there’s no mistaking where he gets that eyebrow thing from._ “We watched a movie last night. I say all of that… I don’t know what we are. I know he needs a plus one for a New Year’s thing, but I don’t know if I’ll see him ever again after that. Honestly, I’m only here now because he feels sorry for me.”

“He just… He’s got a good heart, despite that prickly exterior.”

“Oh, I know that. We’re here because he was an asshole, realized it, and offered to make it up to me.”

“He’s an asshole to most of Manhattan. You must be something special if he felt the need to make it up to you.”

 

After Christmas Eve mass, Rafael and Liz said goodnight to his mother. When Lucia turned to walk home in the opposite direction from her son and his...friend, he offered her his arm. “I close my eyes for ten minutes, and it goes from ‘are you having a mid-life crisis’ to ‘she wouldn’t be my first choice, but she’s smart...and Catholic’.”

Liz shrugged her shoulders and huddled as close as possible to him in the biting winter wind. “The subject of mass did come up, so I had to come clean. As far as the rest of it, I don’t know.” She grinned and switched suddenly to Spanish. “ _It might have come up over washing dishes. I’m far from fluent, but I made my point_.”

“ _I’d say that you did, yes_.”

 

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

 

 

Liz opened the front door to her apartment slowly and poked her head out into the hallway. She grabbed Rafael by the lapel of his tuxedo jacket and pulled him inside. “Be honest with me, because there’s a backup dress in the closet,” she began once the door shut behind him.

Barba shook his head and eyed her dress carefully. The black lace trumpet-silhouetted gown had sleeves down to her elbows and a plunging neckline that didn’t stop until the bottom of her sternum. The subtle train hid her bare feet.  

She reached up and double-checked that her Adele-inspired beehive updo was still in place. “You’re not the only one in this town that owed me a favor. There’s a reason I’ve got nine thousand dollars worth of Tony Ward dresses here at the moment.” Spinning around quickly so the train twirled around her feet, she stopped suddenly and bit her lip.

“Where’s the other dress?”

“I-In the closet… What’s going on?”

He motioned for her to lead him toward her bedroom closet. When she produced the garment bag with the second dress, he unzipped it and grinned. “This one.” He pressed a few kisses down her right arm. “Your flowers compliment this dress.”

“Unzip me?” When he obliged and slowly lowered the zipper on the first Tony Ward dress, she slid it off and let it fall to the floor.

His fingers ghosted over some flowy lines of text inked across her upper back that he hadn’t seen previously. “‘“And everything worth dying for,” answered the sacrilegious old man, “is certainly worth living for.”’ Heller?”

“You’re amazing at your job, drop-dead gorgeous, and clearly love to read. Is there anything you can’t do?” Liz retrieved the discarded dress and walked over to her closet to hang it back up clad only in a nude, lacy thong.

“Leap tall buildings in a single bound and play the guitar are the only two things that spring to mind at the moment.”

“I prefer my superheroes self-made.” She stepped into the gold strapless dress with a beaded bodice. “Be a dear and get the zipper for me?” When he hesitated, she turned to face him while holding the dress up over her breasts. “Don’t tell me you prefer the other one now.”

“No, it’s not that.” He shook his head and quickly zipped the dress.

“Having second thoughts about your choice in companion for the evening?”

“Of course not.” He leaned in and kissed her to dispel that thought. “That dress looks incredible on you. I’m honestly wondering how I got this lucky.”

She looped her arms around his neck. “You were pissy and then offered to make it up to me.” She wiped away the trace of her dark, matte lipstick from the corner of his mouth before turning toward her closet and withdrawing a nude pair of heeled Mary Jane shoes. With her heels on, she was nearly his height. Without having to stand on her toes, she kissed the tip of his nose.

“Still not sure how I feel about you being that tall, but I’ll take it.” Pressing his lips to hers again, he kissed her until his phone buzzed in his pocket. “The car’s waiting,” he announced through a reluctant sigh. “Just know I have every plan to peel that dress off of you later.”

“Starting with that little velvet bow holding my shoes closed,” she winked. “Still planning on your place?”

“Last thing I want is to have your roommate stumble in drunk at an inappropriate time.”

Liz picked up her large purse from the corner of the bed. “I packed my toothbrush.”

 

“Lord have mercy, I’m in borrowed dress that’s worth more than I am in a room full of…” Liz’s thought that would have concluded with her asking Rafael if anyone could tell she wasn’t one of the “in crowd” died on her lips when a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes in his hand asked if she wanted one.

Rafael bit back a grin when his previously nervous date’s entire demeanor changed after she took the first drink of the expensive champagne. He watched her back straighten, her shoulders move back and down, and her neck elongate. “You were saying?”

“Irrelevant.” She ran a finger over her right eyebrow before taking his arm. “So what’s our story?”

“Our _story_?”

“Unless you just _want_ to tell everyone that you were rude to someone at your bank and several favors being exchanged later, you’re introducing that person to the mayor because you didn’t want to go to this gig solo.”

He stopped in his tracks and pulled her to his side. “If anyone asks, yes. That is exactly what I’ll say. Well, with a little editing.”

She swallowed hard and bit her lip. “And what would you change?”

“Yes, I was rude to you the day we met. I did offer to make it up to you, and you cashed in that chip. However, in all of that, I realized that you were an incredible, accomplished, and attractive woman that I wanted to get to know better.” He leaned in so that his lips nearly touched her ear. “I’d prefer to think of this is date number three, if it’s all the same to you,” he whispered. “Drinks and the fake date don’t count.”

“I… That’s fine with me.”

The string quartet across the room finished their song. The exquisitely dressed couples on the dance floor applauded, and the cellist started another piece.

“Wonder if they know the _Jurassic Park_ theme,” she mused as she took another drink of her champagne. “The ‘Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 In G Major’ is nice and all, but…”

Just as he opened his mouth to regretfully inform her that the answer to her random thought was most likely no, he caught sight of a figure and cleared his throat instead. “Mister Cutter,” he began as he stealthily drummed on Liz’s lower back to bring her attention to the man in front of them. He withdrew his left hand from the small of her back, transferred his champagne glass over, and extended his right hand to shake the other attorney’s hand. “Mike, this is Elizabeth Applegate.”

“I’ve heard nothing but good things, Mister Cutter.” Stepping forward, she shook the middle-aged attorney’s hand as well.

“Clearly your other half’s opinion overrides most of the headlines.”

“His opinion is favorable, but I’m a fan of tilting at windmills,” Liz admitted as she let go of the other attorney’s hand. “The Don Quixote ones and figurative ones. I’m a fan of the District Attorney, too, needless to say.”

“Rafael,” Jack McCoy’s second in command started with a swig of his own gin and tonic “If your other half has any legal training, our boss might steal her away.”

“Unfortunately, my education is in finance,” Liz offered with a laugh. “I grew up on newspaper stories like Jack McCoy pouring bullets on the prosecution table in order to hold a gun manufacturer accountable for their weapon. He doesn’t need me working for him, anyway. He’s got you and my _other half_ for his crusading.”

“Thank you.” Mike grinned. When someone came and tapped on his shoulder, he bade his apologies and followed.

Once the E.A.D.A. was out of earshot, Rafael clapped a few times slowly and grabbed another round of champagne for them both from a passing waiter. “You’re good.”

“Sincerity helps.” She sipped her champagne with a knowing grin. “My nose and eyes weren’t the only things I got from my dad. It would seem that his politics came with my good looks, too.”

 

Barba turned his head sharply to the right when his champagne flute, freshly refilled for the midnight toast, was rudely ripped out of his hand...by his date of all people. “What the…”

Liz set both glasses down on the table behind them and brought a finger to her lips to silence him. She bit back a grin when the violinist announced that the last song before midnight had been requested by a guest.

“Oh my god, you did _not_ …”

“I did,” she confirmed, letting the grin take over her face. “Turns out the band does indeed know the _Jurassic Park_ theme.” She put her hand on his shoulder and leaned in close as the opening notes of one of John Williams’ iconic film scores filled the expansive space. “If I knew how to dance, I’d ask you to join me. But my scholarship didn’t cover dance classes.”

“Neither did mine, but I still learned.” When she started to make a comment, he subtly hip-checked her. “Mention getting paid for it, and…”

“I’m not saying a word other than…”

“Elizabeth,” he warned.

“‘Life, uh...life finds a way’,” she deadpanned, dropping all intended reference to Jeff Goldblum’s character.

A few couples made their way back out onto the dance floor, drinks in hand.

“I’m not the only one that likes it.” She rolled her eyes when he turned his attention from her to the dark-haired man approaching him. The second she heard him call the man “Counselor O’Dwyer”, Liz let out a slow breath. With what Rafael told her at dinner about his conversation with this man in mind, she steeled herself before turning.

“And you must be Elizabeth.”

“I am,” she responded enthusiastically, spinning to face the unfamiliar voice and the equally unfamiliar woman on his arm. She watched as the other attorney looked down at her left hand, presumably searching for an engagement ring. They were really going to have to do something about this before office gossip started flying. While the two colleagues chatted, Liz and Mrs. O’Dwyer began making small talk until the countdown to midnight began.

_Ten_

_Nine_

_Eight_

_Seven_

And the O’Dwyers were still standing next to them. _Shit._ Rafael put an arm around her middle.

_Six_

_Five_

She knew the look in his green eyes. They were really going to have to make this convincing. Not that it’d take much. She’d stuck her tongue down his throat after they watched _Christmas Vacation_ for the better part of twenty minutes. Rafael Barba was a _damn_ fine kisser.

_Four_

_Three_

Turning on the ball of her foot to stand in front of him, she looped an arm around his neck.

_Two_

_One_

A chorus of “Happy New Year” rang through the large room, and Rafael pressed his lips to hers.

Liz’s eyes were closed, but she was fairly confident that the gorgeous man attached to her lips was recreating the famous kiss from the V-J Day celebrations in 1945, given the angle of her knees. There was selling it and...whatever the hell he was going for. Not that anyone was complaining.

He smiled when they broke apart for air at the sight of her silent “wow”. “Happy New Year, _sweetheart_.”

“Tell me again in a minute when my brain re-gels.” She grabbed her champagne glass from the table and took a sip. “I don’t know if you’ve seen your colleague’s face,” she whispered “but he’s got that look that says ‘shock and awe’ all over it. I’m probably going to have to start printing wedding shit off of Pinterest and leaving it in your office to keep this going at this point.”

 

 

The instant his apartment door shut behind him, Rafael threw her coat across his living room, her purse down onto his kitchen island, and started to tug on the zipper at the back of her dress. He paused when she mumbled something about needing to give the couture gown back on Tuesday.

“I-I’d love for you to peel, rip, do whatever you want, but…”

“Closet with hangers is this way.” He led her from his crisp, modern living room into the similarly decorated bedroom. “But I remember you telling me to start with the bows on your shoes,” he whispered hoarsely.

“Holy shit,” she whispered as he sank down to his knees in front of her.

Rafael shoved the layers of chiffon and tulle to just north of her knees once she was seated. “You can sit for a minute more in that dress, I promise.” He slowly dragged his fingers down the back of both of her legs until they caught the tops of her vintage-inspired shoes. Kissing her ankle, he proceeded to loosen the velvet tie to first one then the other with his teeth until he could remove each shoe with minimal resistance. He pulled her to her bare feet quickly.

Elizabeth sucked his earlobe between her teeth the second his fingers lowered the zipper on her dress. Before she could form a word, the gown was laying across a nearby chair. And she was in nothing more than her lacy underwear. Standing up, she silently pushed his tuxedo jacket off of his shoulders. “Happy birthday to me,” she purred with her hands against his belt.

“Wait, your birthday is Janu--” The rest of his question faded into irrelevance as pants began their journey down to the hardwood floor.

 

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

 

**January 3, 2017**

 

Liz shivered as the heavy bank door closed behind her. Despite being on her lunch from her first day of head teller training, she stopped into the branch to check in with the floating customer service rep taking her place.

Her temporary replacement stood up from her desk and straightened his tie. “You must be Elizabeth.”

“I am,” she confirmed, warily approaching the desk. “Should I be afraid right now?”

The middle-aged man produced a package from underneath the desk. “This was addressed to you, and I didn’t know what to do with it.”

More curious as to the contents of the package than to her previous intentions, she threw the stranger a mock salute and headed outside and into the coffee shop a block away. She peeled away the innocuous lavender wrapping paper...and discovered a copy of The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha in its original Spanish and a note.

“ _For your own personal windmill-tilting. Dinner sometime this week? -- Rafael_ ”

  



End file.
